Mechs Will Be Mechs
by optimus prime 007
Summary: Just a 4 chapter cracked fic about Optimus and Jetfire having a good time. No slash. Just good friends, good highgrade, good humor, and good fun. Optimus plus Jetfire plus highgrade equals TROUBLE.
1. Chapter 1

This was orinally to be a one shot! Instead it will be 4 chapters because someone yelled at me through cyberspace to post the damn thing! lol Oh yeah, she knows who she is! :P Hope you like it girl!

This is just a crack one shot inspired by Phoenix13 and her line where Elita contemplates welding Optimus crotch plate in Scent of the Future and also Plenoptic's idea of datapads with 'flattering pictures of femmes' (their version of playboy I suppose) on Jetfire's work desk in Things Not Spoken. Thanks for the dirty thoughts girls! :P

So we have Optimus and Jetfire just being their relaxed selves. Let's see what trouble they get into. And oh…the femme wins in the end. Just thought I'd toss that out there.

**Author's notes**: _italics_ denote comlink chatter

* * *

**Mechs Will Be Mechs**

For once his afternoon was free. Free of meetings with the humans or Autobots. Free of disciplinary meetings – mainly because Prowl had already thrown the twins in the brig for fighting while on duty. And free of those fragging datapads that seemed to multiply faster than mechano-bunnies during mating season.

Optimus was free to do whatever he wanted! An opportunity like this didn't come that often so he wanted to take full advantage of it.

"_Prowl, you're in charge. I'm taking the remainder of the day off. I'm to be contacted only if there's an emergency_," he said over a private comlink to his second in command.

"_Acknowledge, Sir. I'll make a note in my day's report. I'm sure Ratchet will be ecstatic to hear you're taking a break._"

"_I'm sure he'll find something else to bitch about during my next maintenance exam, Prime out._"

After checking his inbox to make sure no datapads spontaneously appeared, he practically bounced up and bound happily out of his office and across the hall into his sparkmate's office, closing the door behind him. There Elita-One, bondmate, love of his life, his reason for living, other than the Autobots of course, working diligently on her computer.

It didn't matter what Elita was doing…recharging, working or shooting the slag out of 'Cons, Optimus always found her beautiful. No femme ever made his spark flutter wildly in its chamber like Elita did. But it wasn't only her physical beauty that turned him on. No, she was feisty, stubborn, strong, intelligent...his equal. And he loved it!

He sighed heavily. Just thinking about what he wanted to do to her in his time off caused his interface systems to slowly warm up.

However, the femme Commander seemed so engrossed in her work that she didn't even notice his presence. Undeterred, Optimus gracefully slinked his large frame around behind her and placed his strong large hands on her shoulders and began delicately massaging them.

Bending over, he whispered into her audio receptor, "You're so tense my love."

Then he brushed his lips tenderly over her audio receptor, slowly working their way down to her neck and over her shoulder. One hand even dared to slide over her budding breast plate. One finger snuck beneath the plating, caressing the sensitive protoform skin beneath.

"Optimus! Not now! I'm busy," she growled, yanking his groping hand and probing finger away.

"I've got the afternoon off. You can use a break…fifteen minutes…just a quick interface? It will relax you enough so you can keep working."

"Primus almighty, Optimus, is that all you can think about lately? Every night for the past week you've been asking me for an interface!"

"Not every night," he said in his defense. "I didn't last night."

"Because I was already in recharge when you _**finally**_ came to bed."

"Well, you kind of went to bed early," he said, sounding annoyed by that fact. Honestly, how is he supposed to woo his femme if she's recharging?!

Elita sighed in frustration.

"Listen, Optimus, I'm sorry. Things have just been chaotic for me trying to train the new femmes who landed a couple of weeks ago and keep mechs with overactive interface systems away from them. Thankfully Prowl and Jazz have been good at keeping Sunny and Sides away. Although I'm not sure how long that will last."

"I understand," he pouted, feeling a bit rejected…again.

"You really are adorable when you stick you bottom lip out like that," she smirked up at him. "In a few days things will die down for me then I'll frag you as much as you want for as long as you want. Ok?"

"Ok," he sighed.

"Love you."

"Love you too," he said, kissing her cheek, keeping his disappointment to himself. She did have enough to worry about. She didn't need him acting like a spoiled youngling around her.

He could do that elsewhere!

From there, Optimus wandered straight to Jetfire's lab. He figured his best friend would be up for some fun or anything since that was the epitome of Jetfire. Up for ANYTHING at ANYTIME!

"Uh…don't tell me, Elita shot you down again," Jetfire said the moment he laid optics on his buddy.

"Is it that obvious?"

"You're glistening and your interface systems are overheated."

"I don't glisten!" he snapped. But then hesitantly asked, "Do I?"

"Nah," Jetfire chuckled. "It was a joke. But you could use a good overload. When's the last time Elita topped you off?"

"Three weeks!"

"You poor mech! That's bad! Have you thought of self interfacing? Quickest way to get rid of that excess stress!"

"I'm not going to do that. I have a mate. Besides, Elita would be offended."

"It's not like she'd find out about it."

"Trust me, _**she'd**_ know!"

"Oh, right. You're bonded now. Too bad I had some new material you could have used to help!" Jetfire smiled, opening a draw and pulling out one of his 'special' datapads. He showed it to Optimus with a devilish smirk. "Sexy, right?"

"Ak! Jetfire! I don't need to see that!" Optimus exclaimed, covering his optics.

"She doesn't do it for you," he mused, looking at a protoformed femme provocatively posing. "Not to fear, I've got others that might be more to your liking!"

Optimus could hear several more datapads getting pulled out of the desk drawer and placed on the desk for display. He dared to peek. But one peek was more than enough to see the dozen or so pictures of femmes in various positions all _**naked**_ by their standards.

"NO! Put those away!"

"Primus, she's not going to know you looked at them. When did you become such a prude? We used always look at the femmes together."

"I matured, Jetfire. Something of which you are totally incapable of."

"Well if maturing is getting bonded and being held on a leash by a femme them I'm glad I'm still immature."

"Elita does not hold me on a leash!" Optimus snapped angrily, his good mood totally gone.

"I'll prove it," Jetfire smirked, holding up his hand he raised one finger. "One, she doesn't let you go racing like we used. Two, she doesn't let you drink as much high grade as you want."

"That's not true!"

"'No, Opt honey, you've had enough,'" Jetfire mimicked Elita's voice and tone perfectly. "And she took the cup away and gave it to Ironhide. I know. I was there when she did that."

"You were so drunk how can you remember that?" Optimus asked in disbelief.

"Talent," Jetfire smiled.

Optimus glared at his 'so called' best friend.

"Three," he said, holding up a third finger. "She won't let you have any kind of mech fun. When is the last time you just hung around with us mechs without your femme hanging off your armor or checking on you to make sure you were being a good little mech?"

"First of all, Elita isn't that affectionate in public and doesn't hang off my armor. Second, I have the afternoon off to do whatever I want. And I wanted to do something fun. That's why I came to see you. Now you've gone and pissed me off!"

"Whoa! Whoa!" Jetfire exclaimed, running to cut Optimus off before he left. "Look, buddy, I'm sorry. I know you love Elita more than anything in the universe. But I'm still your best friend. I love you like a brother. You're still the same mech you were when I first met you. You just…well to use a human analogy, you don't come out and play like you used to. And well…I kind of miss it. No one really knows how to let it rip like you and me. Come on, we put those twins, Sunny and Sides, to shame. They're not even remotely in our league."

"I seem to recall, Sentinel giving me hell for letting it _**rip**_ whenever you and I were together," Optimus smiled. Then he sighed heavily. "I admit, I miss it too. Unfortunately, I'm Prime now. I have many more responsibilities."

"Don't forget, you're still Optimus," Jetfire seriously said, poking Optimus in the chest. "You have a responsibility to yourself. It's not going to hurt to have a little fun every now and then. I know Ratchet would love for you to relax from your duties every so often."

"Yes, he reminds me every chance he gets," Optimus groaned rubbing his forehead. Then he smirked at his friend, "So, what fun do you have in mind?"

"One sec!" Jetfire exclaimed then hurried over and opened up a locked supply cabinet. "This is my special brew. I save it for such occasions."

Optimus watched curiously as Jetfire subspaced several canisters of his 'special' brew of high grade. When he was done he locked the cabinet back up and turned to Optimus.

"Let's go have some fun!"

"Where are we going?"

"If I tell you then it wouldn't be any fun."

"I need to tell Prowl my whereabouts…"

"For frags sake Optimus, he's not your sparkling sitter! You're Prime and you can do anything you want. Besides, you don't need to tell him. I'll be with you covering you back if we get into trouble. And no one's better at covering your back than the Jetster."

"Elita is," Optimus sighed, still pouting about getting rejected by his love.

"You're hopeless!" Jetfire groaned and then hauled Optimus out of his lab and straight outside. There Jetfire transformed into his gleaming white shuttle form.

"Get on!"

Optimus complied against his better judgment. Once his massive form was draped over the shuttle Jetfire shot off with a screaming _**YEEHAW**_ that had Optimus clinging onto his friend's wings for dear life.

"Hey! Careful with the wings! They're sensitive!"

"Serves you right for taking off like that fragger!"

Jetfire merely laughed which only made Optimus grumble even more. However, by the time they reached the Bonneville Salt Flats Prime was back to being in a good mood. He had to remind himself that this was for fun and to enjoy it.

"So, Jet…you figure out how to land yet when carrying someone?"

"…"

"I take it that's a no," Optimus frowned as the white ground below was getting closer and closer, faster and faster. "Well, just slow down enough for me to jump off."

"I have an idea! Whatever happens, _**don't**_ let go!"

"This can't be good," Optimus softly mumbled.

"I heard that!"

Jetfire's air speed decreased rapidly as the nose of his flight form tilted up at an angle. Then suddenly the mech started transform. Armor shifted. Servos whined. Optimus lost his grip on the fuselage only because it shifted and slide to form Jetfire's body. But the wings slid up which were actually easier to hold on to.

"This might work," Jetfire said, setting his feet out with reverse thrusters on now to slow their descent.

One problem. While Jetfire had performed this move many times on his own, he never tried it with so much added weight. As a result he didn't use enough reverse thrust and the duo came in for a landing a lot fast than expected.

The result was…laughable.

Four feet hit the ground hard and running. The two large peds behind, not used to having to suddenly start sprinting like that, clipped the ground with a toe catapulting Optimus' heavier form forward. Because Jetfire told him to not let go, whatever happens, the air commander lost his footing from the added weight and belly flopped on the hard surface then skidded several meters before coming to a stop.

"OW! Frag!" Jetfire laughed. "I suddenly feel so sorry for Elita when you guys are interfacing if she's on bottom! She must feel squished because I do!"

"Well, I've never body slammed her," Optimus chuckled sliding off Jetfire and getting to his feet. Then he helped Jetfire up to his feet. "And…well, I let Elita be on top most of the time so I don't accidentally squish her during the heat of passion."

"We can't have that happen, can we?" Jeftfire teased, pulling out the high grade. "Drink up. Then we'll race. I'll even give you a head start."

"On the race or the drinking?" Optimus asked, taking a canister.

"Relax, we're here to have fun."

And fun they had. Optimus could not honestly recall the last time he roared his engine to maximum without being chased by a Decepticon. He knew he could never out race a flyer. That wasn't the point. The point was to just let it rip and have a good time. And they did…until they ran out of High Grade.

"SSlag!" Jetfire slurred. "Should have brought morrre."

"There's more back at the basse," Optimus grinned, swaying where he stood.

"Itss getting dark too. Let's go."

Optimus watched Jetfire walking for a moment. Then looked around trying to recall how they got out here in the middle of the salt flats.

"Hey Jet! Why the frag are you walkingg?"

"I'm heading back too base! We neeed High Grade!"

"Let's fly numbnodess!"

"Oh yeahhh," Jetfire giggled.

* * *

Up next, back at the base


	2. Chapter 2

_**An hour later, back at the base…**_

Hound was enjoying the night sky as he stood just outside the base's entrance. It was peaceful, serene, breathtaking, calming. He was hoping his patrol of the surrounding area would be as equally quiet. One reason why he chose to work the night shift a couple of times a week – to avoid the chaos several Autobots (namely Sunny, Sides, and Bumblebee) could cause during the day without the Decepticon's being around!

Then suddenly a rocket engine backfired loudly. Hound instinctively ducked and drew out his weapon. Mush of the wildlife went running for their lives! He managed to look up just in time to see what his target was.

"Look out below!" came a shout when the thrusters cut out.

The green scout dove out of the way just in time as two rather large mechs literally crashed and rolled in the dirt. When they came to a stop they were both laughing hysterically. As the dust finally settled, Hound almost couldn't believe his optics! He'd expect something like that from Jetfire. But never in a millennium would he expect to see Optimus over energized, lying in the dirt, laughing his aft off!

"Optimus, Sir are you alright?" Hound asked, quickly moving to help his Prime to his feet.

"Oh, Hi Hound," Optimus giggled, swaying on his feet. "I'm fine. Thankss for asking."

"Don't forget about mee!" Jetfire cried out laughing, still lying on the ground.

"How can I?" Optimus snorted, reaching to help Jetfire up.

It was a bit of a struggle but with Hound's help, Optimus managed to get his friend up on his feet.

"Come have a drink with uss, Hound!" Jetfire smiled.

"I can't. Patrol," Hound said, backing away a few feet. Whew! They reeked of high grade!

"Well that blows!" Optimus remarked. "Who made the schedule this time?"

"That little shiny white prick you call your second in command," Jetfire answered.

"It's ok, Sirs. Prowl's just doing his job and I like this shift," Hound grinned. "Much more…_peaceful_."

"Still I need to have a word with my SIC or have Wheeljack bolt down Prowl's desk to the floor so it doesn't bang against the wall our offices share!"

"Whoa! TMI boss!" Hound exclaimed hands up, staggering back a few feet.

"Really, they were…you know, doing it on the desk?" Jetfire asked Optimus. "Did you get pictures?"

"No I didn't get pictures!" Optimus replied smacking Jetfire on the head. "I'm not a voyeur. Ask Sunstreaker! That mech has dirt on every bot on the base."

"Not me," Jetfire smiled proudly.

"That's because you're an exhibitionist."

"I just want to make sure the young bots know how to do it properly."

"Oh Primus, I need a drink! I think I'm sobering up!"

"Slag! We can't have that," Jetfire smiled, wrapping his arm around Optimus' shoulders. "Later Hound. We'll have a few for you."

"Yeah, later Hound."

Hound stood there, arms folded across his chest trying to reign in a laugh. The two drunken mechs were going the wrong way and the scout was wondering how long it'd take them to give it out.

But Hound wasn't like Sunstreaker or Sideswipe. Those deviants would probably follow the lost fools, taking pictures or something. But not Hound. It was funny for a moment to him.

Hound let loose a loud whistle, getting Optimus and Jetfire's attentiong.

"The other way, guys!"

"Oh…thanks!" they giggled.

"Just be careful!" Hound shouted as the duo staggered, barely making it through the door into the base. "_Prowl, this is Hound_."

"_Go ahead, Hound. What's up?_"

"_FYI – Optimus and Jetfire are beyond over energized and heading your way or to the nearest high grade supply_."

"_Are they really that bad?_"

"_I'm surprised they're still standing!_"

"_Thanks for the heads up. Prowl out._"

* * *

oh no! lmao


	3. Chapter 3

_**Twenty minutes later, in recreation room**_

Most of the mechs and femmes were settling down for the evening. Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, and Bumblebee were playing video games in one corner on the small LCD television. Ironhide and Chromia were huddling in a corner talking softly over some high grade. Firestar, Arcee and Moonracer were relaxing and chatting on a couch. Mirage, Wheeljack, and Ratchet were watching the Discovery channel on the large LCD television.

Prowl and Jazz had been playing a game of chess when Hound communicated to Prowl about Prime and Jetfire. Jazz convinced Prowl to play it cool and just hang until they get to the recreation room, which was the most likely place they'd go for more high grade. However, Prowl was too distracted from that point on to play, worrying about just how drunk Optimus and Jetfire really were. Hound was never a mech who exaggerated. But neither the tactician nor the saboteur were prepared for what came through the door.

It literally sounded like a train wreck coming! Metal smashed hard against metal. Scrapes shrieked so loud the sent chills down many bots spinal column relays.

Everyone turned to see what it was and watched with wide optics and gaping mouths. They knew Optimus and Jetfire were good friends, as close as brothers. They even knew the two got into heated arguments with each other over a difference in opinions but would always apologize to each other later. Never have they seen the two actually come to physical blows over anything!

Jetfire burst into the room with Optimus right behind him. With a growl, Prime tackled Jetfire hard, slamming his body into the other mech's. Their momentum carried them half way across the room making Mirage, Wheeljack and Ratchet dive for cover. The couch they'd been sitting on was smashed and rolled over as the two massive mechs thrashed about.

Fists were flying and pounding hard. Legs were kicking wildly. Innocent bystanders were jumping out of the way for fear of getting steam rolled by the fighting mechs and wondering the frag could have caused the two friends to go at each other with such veracity. Even the calm Prowl and jovial Jazz had to bolt from their seats as their table got smashed, and the chess pieces went flying.

"Hey! I was winning that game too!" Jazz shouted, ignoring the quick glare from his bondmate.

Then before Prowl could come up with a plan to stop them or before Ironhide forced his way in between Optimus and Jetfire, they abruptly stopped, watching the chess pieces bounce on the floor…and then burst into uncontrollably laughter. Most everyone stared in total disbelief at the two mechs. What the frag was that all about? Only Ratchet was glaring, arms folded tight across his chest…_**unimpressed**_.

"That was good. You almost had me!" Optimus chuckled, getting to his feet.

"How can a bot as big as you be so agile?" Jetfire questioned, shaking his head.

"It's called training, Jetfire," he smiled, helping his friend up.

"Oh," Jetfire snickered.

"Just what the frag were you two younglings doing?" Ratchet demanded while most everyone else returned to what they were doing now that it was safe. "You're making a mess of yourselves! Look at those dents!"

"I'm relaxing," Optimus smirked, poking the CMO in the center of the forehead.

"Yeah, we're _**re-lax-ing**_ so frag off!" Jetfire snarked, right in Ratchet's face.

The wrench came from no where and smacked Jetfire hard on the forehead. Ratchet always had his favorite one handy for just such an occasion.

"**OW!**"

Optimus giggled, "I'm Prime. I can get a way with getting in his face at least once a millennium."

"Don't press your luck," Ratchet grumpily remarked, although inside he was glad to see Optimus finally relaxing and voluntarily! "I'm afraid to ask…but how much have you two had to drink?"

"Not enough," Optimus frowned, optics scanning for the nearest high grade supply.

"Sir, perhaps you should call it a night," Prowl suggested, stepping in front of his commander. Last thing he needed was his Prime with a whopping hang over the next day when they had to deal with a small group of very important human representatives touring the base.

"The night is still young!" Jetfire grinned and then narrowed his optics at Prowl. "Weren't you supposed to tell him something, Opt?"

"I can't recall. Perhaps it wasn't important," Optimus said, pushing past Prowl and Ratchet, heading straight for the high grade. Jetfire followed him.

"Let them have their fun," Jazz smiled as the duo was grabbing their drinks.. "It's good to see the boss relax. I haven't seen him this over energized in a long time."

"It won't last," Prowl snorted. "Elita will probably show up any moment."

"That femme could use some relaxing too," Ratchet said. "The femme's been working harder than Optimus lately."

"Well so much for a quiet evening with my sparkmate!" Chromia growled storming past them and out the door.

The three mechs turned to see Ironhide had eagerly joined in the drinking fun. Of course he would. The weapon's specialist never turned down drinking fun with Optimus.

"She should have kept Ironhide in their quarters if she wanted alone time," Jazz snickered. "I think I'll join them."

"For ever how long it lasts," Ratchet relented moving to follow Jazz. "No you don't!" The CMO grabbed Prowl's arm before he bolted and dragged him along to join the others. "You could use some _relaxing_ too. Doctor's orders."

"Wheeljack!" Optimus called.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Can you make us a couple of rounds of your plasma shooters?"

Jack smirked behind his mask, "Of course, Sir."

"Not plasma shooters, they give me a processor ache," Ratchet complained.

"Quit griping," Ironhide grumbled.

"Prowl remember how much fun you had the last time we had plasma shooters?" Jazz smiled, winking at his sparkmate.

"Honestly, Jazz, no. I don't recall a single moment after we last time drank plasma shooters."

"You had four," Ironhide said.

"Five," Optimus corrected.

"Really?" Ironhide responded.

"Oh yeah, he was drinking the fifth one while dancing on the table!" Jazz exclaimed.

"I think most of us were laughing so hard we didn't see him drink the last one," Jetfire laughed wildly.

"In that case, I'm glad I _**don't**_ remember," Prowl muttered, shrinking in his seat.

"You weren't that bad," Jazz explained, hugging his bondmate with an arm. "Jetfire was worse and actually broke the table trying some dance move. Then you got mad at him coz he made you spill your drink."

Jetfire giggled uncontrollably, "The little prick can punch hard!"

"One round of plasma shooters as order, Sir," Wheeljack said cheerfully. "Drink up, guys! I have another couple of batches heating up."

"Nothing good will become of this," Prowl grumbled as they picked up their shooter.

"Relax and have fun before I declare you unfit for duty," Ratchet threatened picking up his glass.

"All of you be quiet and drink!" Optimus ordered. "To good friends."

"And good times," Jetfire added.

"To good friends and good times," they all repeated and then drank down their plasma shooter.

Once the heated brew was downed they all coughed and choked, vocal processor sputtered.

"Sweet Primus!" Ironhide cheered, the only one not coughing.

"My throat's on fire!" Jazz gasped, his voice all raspy.

"The better the burn the better the batch," Optimus coughed.

"Ready for more?" Wheeljack asked.

"Oh yeah, keep them coming!" Jetfire coughed.

* * *

oh primus!


	4. Chapter 4

And now the conclusion of the story! hehe

* * *

_**Three hours later, still in the recreation room…**_

It was finally the end of a long day for the femme commander. Elita had been a little envious that her mate was able to take the majority of the day off only because she couldn't join him. She didn't let him know that. One inkling of emotion across their spark bond that she wanted to give in to his affections and Optimus wouldn't have left so willingly.

Typical however, the one day Optimus decides to take off she couldn't be with him. Oh well, at least he was able to relax, something she knew he needed. It wasn't very often the Optimus took time for himself. He was always in demand from his officers, the humans…_her_. All that was in addition to his battling the Decepticons.

Prowl had informed her when Optimus left the base with Jetfire sometime in the afternoon and said he'd have Teletran track the duo just in case. Prowl wasn't really that worried, he just liked to know where his Prime was like any good second in command would. Elita wasn't too worried either. Everyone knew Optimus and Jetfire together were two mechs the Decepticons knew not to trifle with unless they had an entire armada backing them.

So while Optimus was having fun, Elita had worked diligently and hadn't given her sparkmate a spare thought until a couple of hours ago when a fuming Chromia stomped into the femme commander's office. Chromia's visit was short yet volatile! The femme complained about insensitive mechs, mainly Ironhide opting to go drinking with Optimus and Jetfire instead of joining her for a quiet evening alone in their quarters.

Elita's first instinct had been to go down to the recreation room to find out just how much Optimus had been drinking. She hated it when he was over energized. Not that she didn't want him having fun. It was just that Optimus was not an easy mech to move around once he passed out, especially by a femme her size! He had a tendency to get too cuddling with her when he was over energized and would almost squish her unknowingly.

However, she'd changed her mind when Chromia mentioned that it'd been a really long time since she'd ever seen Optimus so relaxed. Instead, Elita pointed out that if Chromia wanted alone time with her mech then she never should have gone with Ironhide to the recreation room for some high grade. And Ironhide was mech who loved drinking and would never turn down a good time with the other mechs. He knew Chromia would eventually forgive him. Plus, he never did it that often.

So when Elita's duty for the day was done and she finally arrived in the recreation room to find Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, and Bumblebee cuddled together and passed out on the floor near the door, she wasn't surprised. Her olfactory senses caught wind of a familiar burning beverage that made her chuckle to herself.

"Plasma shooters? You poor younglings. How dare they take advantage of you like that," she chuckled, gently stepping around the three young mechs.

Her destination, the only occupants in the room at a table nearest the high grade dispenser, Mirage, Wheeljack and Prowl appeared to be passed out while the others were animatedly chatting with each other. She smiled upon seeing how relaxed and worry free Optimus was. The mech worried and fretted about everything, as any good leader would. Ironhide, Ratchet, Jetfire and Jazz were equally relaxed and all smiles, smirks, and giggles.

"Oh, I like this one!" Ratchet exclaimed and they leaned over, huddling around him.

"Nice!" Ironhide whistled.

"No wait! You'll like this other one better!" Jetfire smiled, as he rummaged through scores of datapads scattered on the table.

Elita raised an optic ridge. What the frag was so interesting? No way they were working! Right?

"Slag, where did it go?" Jetfire grumbled.

"I think Prowl has it, Jet," Jazz grinned, reaching and trying to pry the datapad from Prowl's grip. The mech was passed out with his head on the table, face right on the datapad.

"Prowl said he wanted a better look!" Optimus laughed and the others broke out wildly giggling.

"I guess he liked that one," Jetfire snickered getting a glare from Jazz.

"Come on Prowler, let it go," Jazz cooed, still unable to retrieve the datapad from his lover's hands.

"No! I have to finish my work!" Prowl exclaimed, jerking his head up, stubbornly clinging to the datapad.

"You're not at work babe!" Jazz shouted, now caught in a tug-a-war over the datapad with Prowl.

"I have to finish my report!" Prowl yelled with the other mechs about to bust a seam from laughing so hard at their second in command.

"Get it from him Jazz!" Ironhide cheered.

"I'm tryin'! He's got a death grip on it!"

With a strong heave and a grunt, Jazz finally wrenched the datapad free. The he winced when Prowl fell hard to the floor, right on a doorwing. The others laughed wildly. Even Elita quietly chuckled at the comical display.

"Slag, here Jet!" Jazz said, tossing the datapad over.

"He'll be alright," Ratchet laughed as Jazz helped Prowl to his feet. "Just bring him by the medbay…in the morning after I've sobered up!"

"What the frag happened?" Prowl asked Jazz, staggering.

"You kind of fell…on accident," Jazz replied, guiding his mate towards the exit.

"How much have you guys had to drink?" she laughed as how Prowl could barely walk and Jazz was no better.

"Honestly, at this point, I don't even want to know," Jazz smiled as the femme commander got closer. "Come to join the party?"

"Hey, she looks like the femme in that picture!" Prowl said excitedly, his optics roaming over her form appreciatively. "Yup, I'd bet on it. What's your name femme?"

"Prowl, that's Elita."

"No!" Prowl gasped, optics wide as they could be. "Jetfire had a picture of Elita! In her protoform!" Elita's optic ridges shot up! Jazz's optics nearly popped out of their ports. Oh slag! "Does Optimus know?"

"It wasn't you Elita!" Jazz firmly and quickly said, smacking his sparkmate on the head. "It wasn't you Elita. I swear."

"Oh, so you saw it too?" she demanded to know, glaring at the saboteur.

Before Jazz could even respond, Prowl had one of his own. And Jazz had never been so glad to see puke in all his life as Prowl just purged his tanks all over the floor. The femme commander jumped back and the saboteur took advantage.

"Oh, slag…later Elita!" Jazz yelped, dragging Prowl with him. "You know, need to take care of Prowl!"

Elita watched Jazz hurry out with Prowl, hearing Jazz mutter that he was going to kill his sparkmate later when he sobered up. Fine they could go. It wasn't them she was made at. Elita narrowed her optics on her sparkmate's friend. Prowl wasn't one to lie about things. It only took her a few determined strides to reach the table. She plucked the datapad from Ratchet's hand.

"Hey, I was looking at that one!" Ratchet cried out while she took a long look at the picture. It was a femme in a rather seductive post. Not her but…

"What the frag is this?" Elita snapped.

"For fuck's sake, don't shit a purple twinkie, Elita!" Jetfire exclaimed.

Ratchet suddenly burst into uncontrollable laughter, "Do you even know what a twinkie is Jetfire! Coz if you did then you know that shitting a normal twinkie would be impossible!"

"Its slang frag head, it means to not freak out which is exactly what _**you**_ are doing, 'Lita!" Jetfire roared. "Opt and I are just having a few drinks with the mechs while we look at provocative pictures of femmes. It's something some mechs like to do. Big whoop. No harm done."

"Its Elita or Ma'am to you Jetfire! Optimus, have you anything to say?"

"I've looked but I can assure you they don't do anything for me!" Optimus quickly added, swaying in his seat!

"Right because you've got the key to his interface panel so there's not much he can do except look!" Jetfire pressed on. "Besides, even Prowl and Jazz were looking and didn't have a problem with it!"

"Of course they didn't have a problem! Prowl and Jazz used to date femmes before they met each other!" Elita countered.

"For Primus sake, Elita, don't blow a gasket. It's all harmless fun," Ironhide finally interjected.

"And lugnut is finally relaxing, something I've been trying to get him to do for the past thousand years!" Ratchet added.

"Yeah, we were just having fun!" Jetfire smiled.

Elita narrowed her optics and was struck by an idea. Taking a step back, the femme changed tactics.

"Ok boys, have your fun," she smiled sweetly and then even refilled their glasses.

Optimus looked terrified. Even in his drunken state he knew Elita was planning something. Jetfire as usual was totally oblivious. Ratchet and Ironhide were too old to be scared of her and had gone back to looking at the pictures.

"Oh yeah, Prowl said you had a picture of me. What was that all about?" she asked Jetfire.

"Hehe, the femme bore a resemblance but was nothing like you really," he grinned handing over the datapad. "You're much more…"

"Beautiful," Optimus finished.

Elita briefly narrowed her optics before smiling again, "Drink up boys."

"VICTORY IS MINE!" Jetfire screamed and jumped up on the table.

"_Chromia, this is Elita_," the femme commander called over a private comlink as she retreated to the door of the room.

"_Chromia here. What's up?_"

"_You up for some payback?_"

"_That depends_."

"_Get me a blow torch and some of Wheeljack's special glue. Then meet me in the recreation room in…lets say an hour. They'll all be passed out by then._"

"_Yes Ma'am!_"

_**The following morning, very early…**_

Ratchet was the first to wake up. He on-lined his optics to find out he's head was resting on the table, on a datapad to be accurate. Out of the corner of his optics he could see the empty fallen cups of shooters and high grade. He swore to Primus he would never touch the beverages ever again!

With a groan he lifted his head up, chuckling when the datapad was stuck to his faceplates. He absentmindedly swatted at it to knock it off. Only it didn't fall away! So he grabbed it with one hand…then two.

"Frag!" he yelled as he tried to pull it off his face plates. "OW!"

"Ratchet?"

"Wheeljack! Help get this thing off my face!"

"What the frag?!" Ironhide growled as he came out of recharge with a cup stuck in one hand and a datapad with a note stuck in the other.

"You too?" Ratchet questioned as Wheeljack was inspecting how to pull the datapad off Ratchet's face.

"Frag it to pit!" was Ironhide's response.

"I need to get a dissolvent solution from my workshop," the engineer said. "Looks like someone used my glue and glued the datapad to your face."

"GLUE!" Ironhide yelped, banging his hand, trying to dislodge the cup from his grasp. "FRAG!"

"Yeah, what'd you guys do last night after I passed out?" Wheeljack asked.

"I'm not sure. I don't remember much after you passed out, Jack," Hide recalled, sitting dejectedly there with his arms flopped the table before him. Cup still in one hand. Datapad the other.

"Elita showed up," Ratchet moaned and the ache in his processor just magnify tenfold. "I don't think she was very happy with us."

"She left a note," Jack said, reading the data pad in Hide's hand. "Tell Jetfire he can shove the purple twinkie up his aft. Don't fuck with the femme commander, signed Elita-One. What's a twinkie?"

"Don't ask," Ratchet sighed. "Just go get the dissolvent and quickly please."

"Where _**is**_ Jetfire?" Ironhide asked as Wheeljack left. "I'm going to rip him a new aft! Slag like this always happens when we drink and he's around!"

As if on queue, on one of the couches close by, the aerial commander moaned, coming out of recharge. Despite the dull ache in his processor he had a grin on his face plates. From the ache he knew he had a great time yesterday.

Very near him another deep mech groaned, grabbing his head.

"That's the last time I listen to you Jetfire," Optimus grumbled, activating his optics. The light in the room was too bright so he shuttered his optics closed.

"At least we had a good time," Jetfire giggled.

"Honestly Jetfire, I don't recall if I had a good time or not! I can't remember most of last night!"

"That means you had a really good time. Elita even came by and gave us drinks!"

"That doesn't sound like her," Optimus mused, his processor kept trying and failing to recall last night events after he and Jetfire returned to base.

"Whatever, can you get off me now?"

"What?" Optimus questioned, opening his optic covers. Jetfire waved at him and winked an optic. "Oh, I was wondering why what I was laying on didn't feel so comfortable."

"Aw, come on Opt, I'm not cuddly enough for you?" Jetfire joked, puckering up his lips.

"You're not my type," Optimus smirked, pushing himself up to get off. "AH!"

"OW! Be careful!"

"You be…AH!"

"AH! Stop wiggling! That's a sensitive region!"

"Will you stop moving! You're stuck to me."

"_**I'm**_ stuck to you?!"

"Jetfire, not now," Optimus growled.

"What's going…"

That was as far as Ironhide got when he came over to see what all the ruckus was about. He couldn't continue because he broke down laughing so hard his intakes were wheezing!

"That's not a good sign," Optimus muttered, watching his weapon's specialist literally fall on his aft as he continued laughing uncontrollably.

"That bad?" Jetfire asked worriedly, even though he knew the answer.

"Don't move, let me see."

"Ok…I'll just…lie here then," he said as Optimus lifted up slight to get a better look.

"We're slagged."

"Worse than bad?"

"Oh yeah. Definitely."

"Yup, you guys are definitely slagged," Ironhide chuckled. "You both _**really**_ pissed Elita off."

Jetfire swallowed hard, "I gotta know…what'd she do?"

"Well…as best as I can tell…she welded our interface panels together," Optimus said as calmly as he could.

Jetfire's scream reverberated throughout the entire base and somewhere as Elita-One was strolling through the halls, the femme was smiling.


End file.
